


What Are You?

by Ghostinthehouse



Series: Demon and Angel Professors [41]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:20:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22188511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/pseuds/Ghostinthehouse
Summary: There was always an 'and yet' in the rumour mill, as if the general consensus was reluctant to give up on what it thought it already knew.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Demon and Angel Professors [41]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1412962
Comments: 44
Kudos: 1450





	What Are You?

It wasn't unknown for students to pass out on or under one of the greenhouse benches after a heavy night, particularly in winter, when it was cold outside. Crowley sighed with resignation at the sight of one, left him a bottle of water and some paracetemol at eye level, and headed deeper into the plants to do the rest of his morning checks. As ever, the quiet greenness of it soothed him, even if he did hiss threats at some of the plants. He moved slowly, to muted cracks from his joints, misting the air and probing the soil.

The kid's phone rang, and was eventually answered with a groggy whimper. Crowley shifted to a bench close enough to him to keep an eye out without looming. He was sitting up now, weaving unsteadily and blinking at the phone in his hand.

The person on the other end of the line asked, "Where are you?"

The kid just blinked, looking confused and unsure. Crowley sighed and sauntered carefully across, bracing a hand on the back of the kid's bench as he leaned in enough to supply, "He's in the botany greenhouse. And needs collecting. Not sober enough to get himself home yet." He grimaced at the thanks offered, and retreated to his plants and his own bench, aware of the hazy gaze on his back.

Two somewhat hungover students were at the greenhouse door within half an hour, and Crowley waved them over to the first without bothering to get off his own bench.

They pulled the kid to his feet and dragged his arms over their shoulders.

"Sorry to bother you," the left-hand one said.

Crowley shook his head. "It happens. Better in here where it's safe than outside."

All three stared at him as if they'd never seen him before, taking in the facial lines that looked harsh and angular even at rest, the thin body peeled down to a tight-fitting shirt and jeans for working, the weariness even in his seated almost-boneless posture.

The kid mumbled, "Pretty hair..."

"Go home and sober up, kid," Crowley said, tone and body language deliberately shaped to be amused rather than offended, and parental rather than anything else. He added to the kid's friends, "Try not to let him die of embarrassment when he realises."

They blushed, clearly embarrassed for their friend. The right-hand one stammered out, "What _are_ you?"

Crowley responded with a long flat look, eyebrows raised in weary exasperation, running through various options in his head before he finally settled on saying, "I'm a person," as patiently as he could manage.

They blushed harder, and left before any more feet had to be extracted from mouths.

***

It was, of course, all over the rumour mill within hours. And yet - they were thinking, as if they had finally seen Dr Crowley in a new light. Tired, patient, angular, amused, good-looking, and yet...

There was always an 'and yet' in there, as if the general consensus was reluctant to give up what it thought it already knew.

The kid clearly managed not to die of embarrassment, though he clearly wanted to when he sought Dr Crowley out to apologise. He found Dr Crowley with Dr Fell, sharing a bench by a pond in obvious deference to Dr Fell's injury, and feeding the ducks over lunch. Both professors looked up as he approached and he went scarlet before he even got a word out.

He stammered his profuse apologies out anyway until Dr Crowley stopped him with a raised hand. "You're an adult," he said, dry but not unkind. "You get to make your own choices, and I'm not going to hold that one against you. However, I recommend you find someone your own age and level, who isn't taken, to compliment in future." He and Dr Fell exchanged looks and wry smiles.

Dr Fell said, "Compliments, Anthony?"

"Apparently I have pretty hair, angel," Dr Crowley replied.

The kid spluttered even redder, bobbed his thanks, and fled.


End file.
